#snippet.

[hungrydogs-if]

treat. snek peque. plans. concept drabbles.

watch out, there be guns. and vile words. negative relationship rich mother. and a teaser for resolution.

You stand frozen, eyes wide and unblinking as you stare at your mother.

She looks... Sober, for one, older too,but then again you haven't stumbled into her in almost ten years. Those ten years have been kind on her, but what would you expect when she could throw money at the signs of age and be done with it.

Dane's much more relaxed than you, standing by your side, an arm curled over your shoulder, the other one in his pocket. He never liked her, and she always said he ruined you, so when her eyes narrow in recognition, you know it's coming.

"Of course it's you, you useless mongrel. Does your shame know no bounds, I -" she begins, socialite mask slipping back on her face with a practiced displeasure and the straightening of her back. Still, you see her clutch her - well, clutch - with a vice like grip. The dents left by sharp nails will scar the Italian leather for years to come.

"Hail to the bitch, missus ma'am," a lazy salute, "Dad poach any more of your servants as of late? A pool boy, perhaps?" He smiles back easily, but you do catch that twitch in his eye, and the way his fingers press into your arm. She notices, because of course she does, and her disgust turns to you. She draws her painted lips into a sneer, eyes you up and down, judging.

"And you. I'm disappointed. Should've known you'd end up nothing but a cheap whore -" again, she doesn't get all the words out before you hear the rustle of fabric, creak of leather, and the click of a safety being turned off. The Glock glints in broad daylight, aimed right at her forehead. People start reacting slowly, words of disbelief, then screams of terror. All too shallow to help. Your mother turns ashen where she stands, almost corpselike in her stillness. No longer sneering, but genuine fear widening her eyes. She looks almost human.

Dane leans forward, just a bit, and pulls you closer to him. "I dare you finish that sentence, ma'am." He still smiles, jaw tight. The weight of your own gun sits heavy against your waistband, and your fingers itch to... What, exactly? Somewhere, a police siren blares to life.

He's waiting on your response.

*choice

#You know what. Enough. Put an end to the damn hag yourself.

#Place a placating hand on his arm and make him lower the gun.

#Meet her venom with your own, let her taste her own vile medicine.

#... "Go ahead." And he does, without hesitation. He always liked following your orders.

#"Wouldn't have it any other way, mother." You grin, hand smoothing over his chest. 🖤

#"At least I have someone who loves me. Unlike you." You smile and run your hand through his hair. 🤍

[fortuneforsaken-if]

since i'm once again sick (immune system of a baby, gg, dunno how i'm still alive) i have yet again awoken in the dead of night to write. here's the result, a little maluset snippet from when he's returned to you, whenever that may be.

On the lonesome bench, Maluset sits pensive, hand absentmindedly tracing old forgotten patterns in the light dusting of sand that has settled around him. The silhouette looks out of place against the backdrop of tall reflective buildings, but you decide to seek your place next to him, like countless times before.

His hand stills with a twitch and he pulls it into his lap, stray grains of sand softly flowing back in place, the patterns smoothing over.

A companionable silence stretches, and you tilt your head to look at him. Your eyes don't meet, but you can see the cluster of stars in those endless abyssal depths focused upwards, at the sun.

A sun that's a stranger, not the one that warmed you in the past.

The rumble starts from the sand, small ripples, like the earth itself sighs along with him. Still, he refuses to share the pain with you as his eyes blink the stupor away and fall to gaze at the ground.

"It is an empty tomb, the sun of this age. Zekhet's absence is... Heavy."

The sense of anguish comes through his words, and you chance a light tap of your index finger, just the knuckle, against his bare knee. Starlight flickers your way, a moment too short to be called a look, barely a glance, but there's appreciation beneath the sorrow.

"My sorrow cannot be as vast as yours, my little firefly, so you need not worry for me. The skies are lonely without him, but I am glad to be back by your side."

A hint of a smile quirks his lip upwards, but it settles. Silence follows as you sit, overlooking the city that holds the next key to your salvation. You will find a way to be free, and you know he would give his immortal soul to see you liberated, a thought that both eases and deepens the worry in your heart.

[writersbloxx]

Body Language

When someone is...

Sad

Face/Body:

Avoidant/reduced eye contact

Drooping eyelids

Downcast eyes

Frowning

Raised inner ends of eyebrows

Dropped or furrowed eyebrows

Quivering lip/biting lip

Wrinkled nose

Voice:

Soft pitch

Low lone

Pauses/hesitant speech

Quiet/breathy

Slow speech

Voice cracks/breaking voice

Gestures/Posture:

Slouching/lowered head

Rigid/tense posture

Half formed/slow movement

Fidgeting or clasped hands

Sniffing or heavy swallows

Self soothing gestures (running hands over the arms, hand over heart, holding face in palms, etc)

[aiweirdness]

“Slopsquatting” in a nutshell:

1. LLM-generated code tries to run code from online software packages. Which is normal, that’s how you get math packages and stuff but

2. The packages don’t exist. Which would normally cause an error but

3. Nefarious people have made malware under the package names that LLMs make up most often. So

4. Now the LLM code points to malware.

https://www.theregister.com/2025/04/12/ai_code_suggestions_sabotage_supply_chain/

[eggwishing]

I ONCE TRIED TO WASH THAT SCUFFED OLD THING WHILE HE WAS TAKING ONE OF HIS NAPS, BUT WHEN I TOOK IT OFF HE WAS WEARING ANOTHER IDENTICAL ONE UNDERNEATH! AND ANOTHER! I GOT THROUGH TEN MORE LAYERS OF THE SAME THING BEFORE HE WOKE UP. I WAS SO FRUSTRATED! WHERE DID HE EVEN GET THOSE FROM? THEY ALL EVEN HAD THE SAME STAINS!!

[paperlit]

We as a fandom moved way too fast past this:

And this:

[maiko-coy]

I think they'll get along quite well, actually...

[biscuitdragonwithastick]

CW: Aphrodisiacs, Dubcon, Cervix Penetration

Imagine dating a monster whose saliva acts a potent aphrodisiac. Cumming endlessly on their thick tongue as it rams your cunt and twists within your womb. The flood of slick pouring out of your cunt mixing deliciously with their saliva.

They can’t fit their cock inside you but they’ll be damned if they don’t stuff your womb.

The worse is the aftermath. Their aphrodisiac saliva now covers your cunt inside and out. Creating an itch of throbbing arousal that can’t be abated. Your monster boyfriend watches amusedly as you spend the rest of the day trying to be productive. Catching you rutting against pillows and table corner.

You beg for their tongue once more and it smiles. You will be stuck in this lewd cycle for as long as you’re addicted to its tongue. 

[akindplace]

I hope you get all the rest you need. Even if you spent a quieter day and didn’t feel productive, please allow yourself to rest without guilt or shame for not “earning” it. You don’t have to burn yourself out to prove that you need rest. It’s a very human thing to need sleep, to need a break, to need nourishing, to want to take some personal quiet time. Please allow yourself to rest. Even if it’s “too early” to go to bed, even if you spent all day in bed trying to recover from anything. If your body needs sleep, please allow yourself to have it, there should be no rules as to earning sleep.

[oh-three]

Started a new THG one-shot last night:

Peacekeepers lead them to the stage the morning of the Reaping. It is a somber affair. Peeta should be with them. None of them should be there. If he looks back on it, Haymitch doesn’t know which of the two is more surprising: the Quell twist, or the memorial speech that Effie gives for Peeta before she draws their names. The crack in her voice as she says his name spans over the entire crowd.

Twelve raises their fingers. To Haymitch and Katniss.  To Peeta.

[aroaceleovaldez]

i have suddenly become obsessed with a theme that HoO established but never proceeded to extrapolate on, which is:

You are Percy Jackson, and you have been swapped with a boy who was allegedly everyone's favorite person, but they have decided to replace him with you. They just met you. You stand next to his best friend and the people he's known his entire life. In his home. In his cloak. In his place. They stopped looking for him.

You are Jason Grace, and you have just found out you have a long lost sister who completely replaced you in her life with this girl you just met. Your lives and personalities are mirrors. She is you, living the life you were robbed of.

You are Annabeth Chase, and you have just become starkly aware that you have been inhabiting the void left behind by your best friend's long lost brother. You and Luke were just replacements for him. Now you have to look him in the eyes when he has nothing and know you took that life from him.

You are Piper McLean, and you have just found out your relationship is fake and built entirely on the memories of Annabeth Chase. You have been given a boyfriend when hers has been taken away. You have no idea how much of it is real or not but regardless you feel like if your relationship isn't exactly in their image that you have failed.

You are Leo Valdez, and you have just learned that you are the echo of your great-grandfather. You are not your own person. You just exist to be a mirror of him. A doppelganger. An actor and stunt double facing all the danger he never had to but wearing his face. To be there for his best friend decades later simply because he couldn't. You are playing a role. A seventh wheel and a pawn for a goddess who carefully sculpted your entire life for her own purposes.

You are Hazel Levesque, and the only reason you are alive is because your brother couldn't save your his sister. You are a consolation prize. An apology. Your existence here is misplaced in every way but you inhabit it anyways.

You are Frank Zhang, and you are a shapeshifter. Inhabiting your own body feels strange and clumsy when you could be literally anything at any time. You are anything and everything and live your life with the simple certainty of knowing exactly how you will die.

[irisfixation]

she asks kindly before sex if she could please have your safeword. you oblige happily; it's only after her knife draws blood, and you fumble for words that will not arise, that you realize the extent of your mistake. "it's perhaps one of the most basic fae tricks, yes," she tells you with a smile, "but you know, people tend to be far less cautious when it's not a name being taken!"

[flamingpudding]

Little Snippets #10

"Oh hell naw!"

Goon Nr.1 shouted the moment the bag got pulled of Danny's head, and he squinted at the light. His eyes adjusted.

"I am not paid enough to deal with a Wayne kid!" Goon Nr.2 groan.

Danny blinked again. Now he could just... easily walk out of this, but the school trip had been boring, and he thought he could get in some rough housing if he let this men... like kidnapped him. You know? Like he does with his ghost rogues. But this was unexpected now that these guys were apparently getting a closer look at him.

"Come on its Wayne kid! The Ransom will be a big pay out." Goon Nr.3 said cheerful.

Danny blinked again, the other two goons giving the third one a rather deadpan stare.

"New guy?" Nr.2 asked.

"New guy." Nr.1 confirmed.

Okay, this was the point on which Danny was now puzzled. Who were the Wayne's? Why was kidnapping them bad? And was this a good moment to transform and get a bit of brawl in? He really wanted some action after all the museums and sightseeing trips Mr. Lancer took the class on.

Goon Nr.1 was now patting Nr.3's shoulder like he was an innocent child. "Dude, we don't mess with the Waynes because that alerts the Bats. We don't want to deal with Batman if we don't have too."

"Last time I worked for Peguin, he strung me up and tied me to a roof..." Nr.2 shivered.

"I saw him take out ten guys at once before... ran for my life that day." Nr.1 sighted before he shook his head. "And that's when Batman has a good day. On a bad day... you will have broken bones."

"And in the worst case, you get one of his spawns to show up instead." Goon Nr.2 added on.

"Uh... Spawns?" Danny couldn't help but ask, blinking from his spot on a chair, no longer tied onto it as he had already phased out of the ropes while they weren't looking.

"The Robin's!" The two goons said in sync and then proceeded to launch into an explanation about the Robin's, their theory about which Robin became which other vigilante according to the timeline and how Red Hood fit into that theory and also why they were so much worse when they showed up instead of Batman.

Danny won't deny it. That was kind of the most interesting part of his school trip now, as he sat there nodding along to the explanation Goon Nr.1 and Nr.2 were giving him and Nr.3.

Meanwhile...

Mr. Lancer was panicked. One Danny Fenton was missing. A Fenton was mission. He lost a God damn Fenton in an unknown city. He needed to do damage control and that quickly. Unknowingly alerting the Bats to the situation through contacting the GCPD to find one blue-eyed, black haired teenager.

[writersbloxx]

Body Language

When someone is…

Nervous/Anxious

Face:

Darting eyes/avoiding eye contact

Rapid blinking

Tense jaw

Looking upwards when talking or fixing eyes on a more distant point

Furrowed (or raised) brows

Frowning

Blushing 

Micro-expressions- quick/short facial expressions like suddenly widening their eyes or a brief grimace

Voice:

Shaky or trembling

Higher pitch or thin

Breathy

Wavering

Raspy or slightly cracked

Hesitant

Speaking quickly or stuttering

Choppy (many pauses in speech)

Shorter, clipped words (staccato)

Gestures/Posture:

Tense, closed off stance

Hunched shoulders

Body is stiffened

Crossed arms

Fidgeting

Touching clothes

Cracking knuckles

Bouncing knee

Subtly covering their mouth

[clockwayswrites]

“Sorry.” His voice was a hoarse whisper through the black muzzle he wore. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real anymore. It’s fine, it wasn’t real—

“All good. My fault,” Flash said as he took his seat again. “Maybe having a name to call you would help?”

It wouldn't.

“Phantom.”

“Phantom,” Cyborg repeated. “Are you a new hero, Phantom?”

Most of the room flinched at his bark of laughter. He stamped the urge down, back under the edge of hysteria. “Retired.”

Beast Boy snorted. “Retired from what? I’ve never heard of you.”

“Sorry about him,” Flash said quickly. “He’s stressed. We… we all are.”

Danny shrugged and curled further around himself. “I know, it’s fine. You wouldn’t have heard. My town was under a sort of media blackout by the shadowy government organization using it as a ground zero for their experiment. Any news on me would have been wiped before it got out.”

“What the fuck?” Beast Boy mouthed.

“Is that, I mean, the organization, are they still an issue?” Cyborg asked and leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees.

To his credit, he didn’t flinch when toxic Danny’s green eyes flicked to him. “Maybe. Not for the town, but for me, maybe. If they are still out there, they’ll have detected my signature and they’ll come for me. It’s why I’m retired, to stay hidden.”

“But you came. Today, you came out of retirement,” Darkstar said.

“Yes.”

“If it’s such a big risk, why?” she asked. “We’ve had other battles bigger than this one. What made you come today?”

Danny’s eyes flickered towards the double doors. He could feel the flames of his hair stutter and spark; he took another breath. The hospital tasted like the lab had. “Because I couldn’t let Nightwing die.”